


Hit Pause

by schneestern



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneestern/pseuds/schneestern
Summary: Hotch goes to a charity auction. Reid wins a dinner with him. Things happen.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 23
Kudos: 217





	Hit Pause

“Is there any chance I can still back out?” Hotch asks JJ and only kind of means it.

She smiles at him, tucks at his tie and shakes her head. “It won’t be that bad, Hotch. And it’s for a good cause.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but somehow I’m the one standing on a stage getting auctioned off like an antique table.”

Now JJ can’t hold in the laugh and Hotch has to smile despite himself. 

“A very well dressed table, sir,” Garcia says from the door and Hotch glares at her. She smiles and makes her way into his office, holding a pile of files. “These are from the Arizona case, you just need to sign a few pages. And you really should go, traffic’s already pretty heavy.” 

He tugs the shirt sleeves over his wrists. It’s not the suit itself that makes him so uncomfortable, Hotch loves wearing suits. They’re part of the job and part of the person he is at work. But formal suits, that’s a whole different story. He’s even wearing cufflinks and already he’s annoyed by how they keep sliding up. 

He’s just glad the one formal suit, that he had hanging in the back of the closet, still fits him. What a nightmare it would have been to find a new one on such short notice.

Garcia walks past him and dumps the files on an already precariously teetering pile on his desk. On her way out the door, she stops to dust imaginary lint from his shoulder. “You look good, boss,” she says softly and Hotch gives her a genuine smile in return. Sometimes Garcia knows just what to say.

JJ and Garcia share a conspiratorial look, as Garcia walks out, which Hotch chooses to ignore. They just don’t understand. Sometimes charity work is harder than the actual job. All the fake smalltalk and smiles. Hotch would rather stay at the office and work.

He sighs and finally grabs his coat and his keys from the desk, tucks his briefcase under one arm. Quick sweep of the office and no, he hasn’t forgotten anything.

“Stop stalling,” JJ says from where she's leaning against the wall next to his office door. “It’ll be fine, Hotch, you’ll see. And if all else fails, you will have at least made the St. Ann’s Children's Hospital some much needed money for their new terminal care facility.”

Hotch sighs and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He starts for the door and together they walk out of his office and through the bullpen. It’s late and most of the lights are out already. Even Reid’s desk is deserted, files covering every inch of space. Hotch wonders when Reid started leaving work this early. He should probably tell him that it’s a good new habit. After this whole charity thing. 

But, he thinks, JJ’s right. If all else fails, Hotch will at least have done some good in the local community once this humiliating event is over.

They reach the elevator just as the doors open. Hotch steps in and nods at JJ. “Let’s see if someone will bid on me,” and she says, “Oh, definitely, don’t worry about it,” as the elevator doors close.

***

But maybe Hotch should have worried. 

Because now he’s standing on a stage, that is in actuality slightly bigger compared to when he looked at it from the sidelines. They already auctioned off some of the other participants and Hotch, who is generally pretty okay with the way he looks, is fighting some sort of panic, that he will be met with deafening silence instead of bids.

He’s standing squarely in the middle of the stage, facing a room full of at least three hundred people. He tries not to tug at his right shirt sleeve that has already slipped up over his wrist again.

“Please, give a warm round of applause for Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner of the FBI’s BAU division,” the evening's host introduces him with his booming voice that would be right at home at a carnival. 

“Agent Hotchner will auction off a dinner date at the location of your choosing and most definitely some very interesting stories about his line of work.” There’s a polite chuckle from the audience and Hotch can not wait to tell JJ how absolutely right he was in worrying about this.

“So, bids will start at $100. Go for it, ladies and gentlemen.”

Hotch squares his shoulders and gives the audience his most pleasant smile. He tries to remember that he is a grown man with a gun license, a team of people at the top of their profession and a job that actually makes the world a better place. Not a piece of cattle about to go to the highest bidder.

In the beginning quite a few people do bid on him, which, Hotch has to admit, is a nice feeling. The lights on stage are blinding and Hotch can barely make out anything, let alone the people out there raising their little auction paddles to bid on him. 

He is pleasantly surprised, when he clears the thousand dollar hurdle. After that, though, the auction gets a bit sluggish and Hotch has to suppress the urge to fidget again.

Finally, the host frees him from his misery. “Sold to bidder number 215 for $1,800. Please come to the back to sort out the details and get to know your new dinner date.”

Hotch tries not to look too relieved when he is led backstage by an assistant and placed near a sign declaring it the “Auction Meeting Point”. 

Now he does tug at his shirt sleeve and looks at his phone. There’s a text from JJ with a little thumbs up emoji and he smiles. He’ll have to thank her later for calming his nerves, even though it only somewhat helped.

“Well, you look a lot more relaxed now that you’re off stage.”

Hotch looks up in surprise and sees Spencer Reid standing there, hands easily tucked in his pants pockets.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I believe, I just paid a lot of good money for your company and hopefully a somewhat fancy dinner.” Reid’s smile is easy and Hotch feels himself smile in return.

Reid joins him at the sign, giving it a passing but amused look. He’s wearing a black suit that is more casual than Hotch’s own with the tie slightly askew and the top button undone.

“I’m not going to deny that I’m very happy to see you, Reid, but what are you doing here?”

“Well, we’ve been pretty busy lately and I just wanted to, well, to hang out, I guess?”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “For $1,800?”

“I had some money to spare.” Reid shrugs and fidgets a little as he says it. “And it’s for a good cause,” he adds, almost like he just remembered that fact.

“You could have just asked, you know,” Hotch says mildly.

“Yeah, but this was more fun.” Reid’s face is guarded, when he shrugs.

A group of women pushes past them towards the exit and jostles Hotch. His shoulder brushes Reid’s and they step towards each other to get out of the way. 

Reid smells nice, like an aftershave Hotch remembers from the time, just after the divorce from Haley, when he’d jumped head first back into the dating pool and discovered that dating men was just as challenging as dating women.

It’s strange that he thinks of it now. But the smell shakes something loose in his mind.

He’s still not really sure why Reid is here and actually put good money on him, nevermind that it’s for a good cause. But he’s also relieved that he doesn’t have to get through a night full of awkward smalltalk with a stranger.

Hotch realizes that the silence has stretched and Reid is looking at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, it is nice that you came and saved me from a night of endlessly dodging questions by someone who has an unhealthy interest in serial killers.” 

Reid smiles. 

“And you know, it has been a while since we spent time together outside of work,” Hotch adds.

He reaches for Reid’s shoulder and squeezes it. He feels Reid jump slightly and then try to hide it and okay, something is definitely up. Hotch files it away for later. 

“So, when would you like me to take you out to dinner?” Hotch asks.

“How about now?”

“Now?” Hotch looks around, not exactly sure why. It’s not like someone’s going to tell them off for bending the rules here. Technically, they’ve probably already broken them.

“Sure,” Reid says. “I mean, Jack’s covered for the night, I assume. You’re already away from your desk and all your files, the biggest hurdle in getting you anywhere. And it’s probably going to be a lot harder to schedule something after today, knowing our schedules. Plus, we’re already dressed well enough for the Italian place on Main Street I had in mind.”

“Well,” Hotch feels a genuine smile spread across his lips. “Who am I to argue with that? Let me just get my coat and we’re good to go. Do we need a reservation? I can call there and meet you outside.”

“Already took care of it,” Reid says and Hotch wonders how Reid knew that he would win this auction. And that Hotch would agree to go to dinner with him. He shakes the thought off. Probably something about probabilities and cause and effect. 

“Alright, then I’ll see you outside in ten minutes. I parked all the way to the back of the lot, towards the Taco Bell.”

Reid nods and smiles to himself. And yeah, Hotch can’t deny that a night out with a happy Reid is worth all the humiliation of being auctioned off like an antique table.

He’s not going to tell JJ that, though.

Hotch turns and heads for the coat check.

***

They drive the short distance to “Il Domine” in companionable silence. Hotch actually relaxes a little for the first time all evening and is surprised to realize that it has in fact been a while since he and Reid spent time together outside of work.

Sometimes he has trouble remembering that the easy silences, sitting together on the plane, are still part of his work day.

For a while there, he and Reid would go for a late night coffee or late-night dinner quite often, as a way to let off steam after difficult cases. 

Hotch always liked to listen to Reid unwind and discuss intricacies of past cases. He never had time to indulge in that at work, where finishing reports and taking care of the team’s needs always came front and center.

It was during one such dinner that Hotch discovered that Reid might talk a lot, but he was also a fantastic listener. Hotch hadn’t realized how much he needed someone to just listen to his thoughts ever since Haley had left and he’d spent most of his free time alone or with Jack.

Hotch finds that he’s _really_ looking forward to this dinner.

***

They park the car around the corner of the restaurant and get out. 

Reid rubs the back of his neck as he rounds the car and when he looks up his face is open and vulnerable. “I’m glad you agreed to this,” he says softly.

“Why wouldn’t I? You paid for me after all.” Hotch is honestly surprised that Reid even thought he’d say no. 

He reaches out and halfway there falters, not sure what he meant to do. 

He ends up patting Reid’s back. 

If Reid notices the awkward moment, he doesn’t show it. 

At the entrance the Maitre d’ gives them a questioning look and Reid says, “Spencer Reid, table for two. I called for table 10? By the window?”

The Maitre d’ flips through his book and nods like it’s a common request that guests ask for a certain table.

“Yes, right. Follow me, gentlemen.”

“You want to tell me what’s so special about table 10, Spencer?” Aaron slips effortlessly into a more intimate style of conversation. He wonders why it always feels so easy to transition from his work persona to a more private version with Spencer.

“Good view of the whole restaurant, no doors at your back, far enough away from the kitchen to not smell like fried things at the end of the evening. And if the smalltalk sucks, you can always look out the window. Also, there’s always the same waiter. I like him.” Spencer shrugs and Aaron rolls with it.

“Should I be jealous?”

Spencer looks up sharply and then smiles. “Maybe,” and walks ahead to the table.

Aaron feels a prickle at the back of his neck, as he follows him. 

It’s going to be an interesting night.

***

“No, but I had no idea that the guy was hiding in that big industrial washing machine. I mean who does that? He’d been shot and there was a truckload of FBI agents outside. I’m pretty sure he told his buddies in prison he got nabbed in a shootout, but I really just threatened to turn the thing on to the highest setting and drown him.”

Spencer’s holding a dessert spoon in his hand and laughing unabashedly at Aaron’s story. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, his tie joined Aaron’s on the table an hour ago and another button of his shirt has come undone.

Aaron is laughing too, but he also catches himself several times, as his gaze strays to Spencer’s throat working around a laugh.

They’re both relaxed, settling into their familiar back and forth and Aaron has a hard time pinpointing when the evening had turned into, well, _this_ , but he kind of likes it. It’s familiar and feels different at the same time. 

Something has changed, but he can’t quite name what.

A small voice at the back of his mind keeps insisting that he needs to uphold some modicum of professionalism, that he is after all Reid’s boss. But that voice gets progressively more quiet as the night moves on.

The restaurant is only half full at this time of evening, in the middle of the week, and the food really is fantastic. Aaron remembers driving by this place a few times, thinking to himself that he should try it out someday. 

Now that he’s actually here, he realizes that in his mind he had always unconsciously pictured Spencer there with him. 

Funny that he only thinks of it now.

“And you want to know what the craziest thing was?” Aaron says. “After that whole thing, we drag the guy out of the washing machine and he is covered head to toe in dirty laundry. I’ve seen some stuff, Spencer, but never anything like this.”

Aaron laughs at the recollection and picks up one of his cufflinks, absentmindedly rolls it between the tip of his fingers. They were the first thing he took off, when they reached the table.

“Can’t imagine what that must have been like. Are there pictures?”

Aaron smiles and shakes his head. When he looks up and at Spencer, there is something in his eyes that has nothing to do with the story. It’s open and vulnerable and Aaron has to look away again. 

The cufflink in his hand catches the soft light of the lamp hanging over their table and Aaron feels the first twinges of melancholy, when he realizes the night is winding down.

He thinks of his empty house and absurdly wants to order more food, just so they can stay. 

He’s definitely in dangerous territory here.

“You know,” Spencer interrupts his reverie. “I never thought you’d ever wear those.” He points at the cufflink in Aaron’s hand. It’s shaped like a small, golden arrow.

Aaron thoughtfully turns the little arrow in his hand. “It’s not because I don’t like them, Spencer. I just rarely have a reason to get this dressed up.”

“But you kept them.”

Aaron looks up sharply. “Spencer! You thought I’d thrown away your gift just because I wasn’t using it?”

Spencer actually blushes and looks down. “No, no, I just--I thought they were probably gathering dust somewhere and you wouldn’t know what to do with them. I mean. It was kind of a strange present. But when we picked names for the Christmas raffle that year, I got you and--you’re actually really hard to shop for. And I should have probably just gotten you a book. That Forensics bibliography you always keep meaning to buy, but that’s too expensive. But then I went to this second hand shop and when I went inside, those were the first thing I saw and they made me think of you, and, I don’t know, I just, you know.” 

Aaron waits for Spencer to finish and then reaches for his hand. He’s still holding the cufflink, so it's a little awkward, but he puts his hand on top of Spencer’s and just leaves it there, the cufflink leaving a small indentation on the back of Spencer’s hand.

“Spencer. I do like them. A lot. They were a very thoughtful gift. And yes, they probably were gathering a bit of dust on my dresser, but I was still happy to have an occasion to put them on today. Probably the only--, well, one of two things about this whole charity thing that wasn’t terrible.”

He smiles and Spencer slowly smiles back at him. 

“I just saw you put those on in your office today and that sort of, uh, made me decide to. You know. Go to the auction.” Spencer waves his free hand around, but doesn’t pull away from where Aaron is still kind of mostly holding his other hand.

“You spontaneously decided to go bid in a charity auction for me?” Aaron gives him an amused look, but he also feels a slight blush creep up his neck. That, at least, answers part of the night’s conundrum. But not the _why?_ of it all.

Aaron isn’t so sure he will ever find out.

He’s about to ask Spencer, point blank, just why he went to the charity event tonight, why he went out of his way to spend time with Aaron.

Just then the waiter, a young man named Luca, touches Spencer’s shoulder and asks, “Do you guys need anything else?”

Aaron pulls his hand away.

Spencer turns to the waiter, shaking his head. “No, thank you, just bring us the check, please, Luca,” Spencer says and his gaze moves from the waiter, who walks away to get their check, back to Aaron.

“What?”

Aaron tries to find the moment again, the courage to ask Spencer, what exactly he thinks this evening _is_. 

Instead he says, “Nothing. I just didn’t quite realize you were so familiar with the waitstaff here.”

And wow, that came out completely wrong, but before he can explain that he didn’t mean it like that, Spencer gives him a genuinely curious look. “Why? Does that bother you?” 

_Good question_ , Aaron thinks, _why does it?_ His brain very unhelpfully does not provide an answer.

“Look, Spencer, it doesn’t. It’s fine. I didn’t mean it like that. And it’s not like I haven’t, ah, been familiar with other men in the past.”

Spencer’s eyebrows go up. “You what?”

And oh, that was not exactly what Aaron planned to say, at all, but now it’s out there and he can’t take it back. 

“I just figured, the way you know each other, that you, well, you know. And that’s fine. You may not know it, but I did use the past few months to get back out there--, well, I wouldn’t call it dating exactly, but--,” he shrugs awkwardly. “And, unlike some things Garcia likes to say about me, I am in fact open. To stuff.”

It takes all his energy to shut up or he’s going to ramble even more. Aaron takes stock of himself, shirt slightly rumpled, suit jacket on a nearby chair. They barely had a few glasses of wine between them. But damn, if it doesn’t feel as if he lost some sort of control along the way. Maybe he should have held back more. 

So much for professionalism.

Sometimes Spencer inspires a kind of honesty in him, that Aaron rarely allows himself.

Spencer’s giving him a quizzical look now, his face a careful blank. Aaron always forgets how fantastic Spencer’s poker face can be.

“I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business, how you spend your time off, Reid,” he finally says.

Spencer’s fingers tap on the table, upsetting some crumbs. “It’s fine, Hotch. And no, I didn’t ‘you know’,” he mimes some air quotes, “with Luca. He’s just the waiter at my favorite restaurant. I come here at least twice a week.” There’s the hint of a smile on his lips.

Aaron feels like an idiot.

“I’m an idiot,” he says. “I don’t know what I thought, when I said that. I’m--It’s probably time for me to head home. It’s been a long day.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” and maybe Aaron imagines it, but Spencer looks a little crestfallen when he says it. Maybe Aaron isn’t the only one trying to prolong this evening.

Luca brings them the bill and Aaron pays, waving Reid off, when he tries to reach for his wallet.

They gather their things and Aaron carefully clips together the cufflinks and slips them in his coat pocket. He folds his tie neatly in his hand, so it doesn’t crease too much.

They head outside in silence.

***

The night air is crisp enough to clear Aaron’s head a bit. He takes a deep breath and rubs his fingers absentmindedly along the fabric of the tie in his hand.

“Let me drive you home, Spencer,” he says. 

Spencer nods at him, “Thank you, that would be nice.”

They walk around the back of the restaurant, close enough to each other that their shoulders almost touch.

“Look, Spencer,” Aaron begins when they stop next to the trunk of his car. “I really am sorry about my, uh, outburst earlier. I did have a much nicer evening than I anticipated at the beginning of that auction. Thank you for that.”

A soft smile appears on Spencer’s face. 

“Me too, Aaron,” he says. 

They look at each other and Aaron grabs his tie tightly in a fist, to keep his hand from doing god knows what. Like touch Spencer. Or pull him closer.

Aaron definitely needs to take a cold shower the minute he gets home.

There’s a tentative tap against his knuckles and when he looks down Spencer gently tugs his tie out of his hand. “Let me hold that for you,” he says and carefully folds it and tucks it into the pocket of his coat.

Aaron doesn’t quite know what to say to that, so he mumbles something that might either be “okay” or “thank you” and walks around the car and gets in.

The engine’s already running by the time Spencer slips in next to him.

***

The drive only takes half an hour and the car clock reads 11pm by the time Aaron turns off the radio and then kills the engine. The motor ticks softly as they sit in the driveway of Spencer’s apartment complex.

“Thanks for driving me, Hotch.”

“Not a problem.”

“I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then,” Spencer says and opens the door. The light in the car clicks on, bathing them in white light. 

On an impulse he can’t quite place, Aaron reaches out and catches Spencer’s arm.

“Hey, can I come in for a coffee? It’s not that far to my place, but I guess it would help keep the tiredness at bay.”

Aaron doesn’t even know what his goal is here, but Spencer nods at him and says, “Yeah, sure, okay.”

They head up to his apartment together and Aaron wonders what the hell he is doing, as Spencer unlocks his front door.

It’s not as if he hasn’t been to Spencer’s home before, he has, a couple of times. He likes the organized mess of books and printouts and notepads cluttering every surface. 

Spencer’s place is always full of things but never feels messy and now that Aaron’s walking through the front door again, he’s reminded once more at how familiar this place feels to him, even though it’s not his own home.

The door clicks softly shut behind them.

Spencer shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack by the door. He toes off his shoes and Aaron notices the mismatched socks, the pants leg riding up on one side to show a flash of ankle.

“Spencer,” he grabs Spencer’s arm again and before he has time to think about it, he tugs, pulls him really, until Spencer stumbles against him.

There’s a short pause, one heartbeat, two, in which Aaron hesitates and then his body does the thinking for him, closes the distance between them and then he’s kissing Spencer.

He has to tilt his head a little, but Spencer’s lips are soft against his own and damn all that professionalism, but right now Aaron can’t think of a single reason not to do this. He’s sure there will be plenty of time for that later.

Spencer makes a small sound in the back of his throat and then he’s gone, stepping back from Aaron.

They look at each other and Aaron’s not sure what Spencer’s thinking, but he’s pretty sure what he wants now is not to stand around.

“Spence, I--”

Spencer shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Hotch.” The finality of this statement makes Aaron’s skin itch.

“Listen, I know this feels like something we should talk about. But maybe, we can pause that discussion and get to it later?” Aaron knows he sounds ridiculous, well, he probably looks ridiculous, standing in Spencer’s hallway, still in his coat and shoes, trying to make sense of something his body already seems to know.

Spencer looks at him and doesn’t say anything.

Aaron feels his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he’s not going to back down now.

Carefully, he slips out of his shoes and lines them neatly up against the wall. When he takes off his coat and puts it on the peg next to Spencer’s, he remembers something.

He takes the cufflinks out of the coat pocket and turns back to Spencer, who looks like he hasn’t moved at all. He holds them out between them.

“Spencer. You gave these to me. Because they meant something and you wanted to tell me that--maybe, just maybe, this, uh, might be worth pursuing.” He takes a deep breath. “Spencer, why did you come to the charity auction tonight?” 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, deer caught in headlights and he opens his mouth, but then closes it again. His features become carefully neutral again and Aaron’s starting to think that he might have read this all wrong.

A cold feeling slides down his back and he drops his hand to his side, closing the fist around the cufflinks. He looks down, heart rattling between his ribs, and he can only see his two perfectly matched socks as he blinks and tries to collect himself.

“Alright, maybe I misunderstood. I think I'll head back out, Reid. Thank you for offering coffee. We’ll probably need to talk about this in the morning.”

Aaron’s turning back to his coat, willing his brain not to think anything, when he feels Spencer grab his wrist. The angle is awkward and Aaron twists back around.

Spencer doesn’t say anything when he carefully pries open Aaron’s fingers. He takes the small arrow cufflinks and gently sets them down on the hall table by the door. Aaron’s hand falls to his side.

Then Spencer cups his head between his hands and oh, Aaron misses a breath or two, because Spencer’s leaning forward and then they’re kissing again. 

This time it’s faster, more urgent, like Spencer’s trying to talk by way of kissing. 

He leans into Aaron, who stumbles back against the wall, instinctively holding on to Spencer’s hip.

Spencer smiles into the kiss, but doesn’t stop licking into Aaron’s mouth, open and curious and nothing like Aaron imagined.

They break apart for air and Aaron looks at Spencer, lips glistening, the smile still on his lips.

“Pause all the discussions about why this is a bad idea for later? That’s your strategy, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron shrugs, “Never tried that before, but it seems as good a time as any to try new things.”

This time Spencer laughs, but he also steps closer, his hands fiddling with Aaron’s shirt buttons. The tips of his fingers graze Aaron’s collar bone as he slips the first button out of its hole.

“Pause then,” Spencer says and leans in. Instead of going for Aaron’s mouth he puts a small trail of kisses along his jaw, nips at the side of his neck.

“Pause,” Aaron says and is surprised that he sounds a bit breathless. 

He runs his hand into Spencer’s hair and carefully tugs at it, so they are face to face again. “I mean it, though. We do have to talk about this eventually. And I don’t want to do this, if it’s just casual for you. I couldn’t stand--I don’t want casual.”

The playful smile drops from Spencer’s lips and he looks suddenly serious.

“Aaron, I never wanted this to be something casual.”

“Oh,” is all that Aaron can manage and then they’re kissing again.

Spencer has him snug against the wall, the full length of their bodies pressed into each other. Aaron feels the solid presence of Spencer all over and tells his brain that yes, _pause_.

He deepens the kiss, pulls Spencer closer by the hips until they touch all the way and Aaron realizes that Spencer’s already half hard.

“Spence, Spencer,” he manages between kisses, “bedroom?” 

Spencer pulls away and his hair is ruffled, shirt half untucked. Aaron realizes that while they were kissing, Spencer deftly unbuttoned his shirt, it’s hanging open over Aaron’s chest and yeah, bedroom, right now.

He tries to move away, but Spencer pushes him back against the wall.

“No, stay, I want to--,” and before Aaron can do anything, Spencer is on his knees in front of him and working open first the button, then the zipper of his pants. 

Aaron’s breath catches and he’s reaching for Spencer before he realizes what he’s doing.

He presses his arms back down to his side, fingers curling into fists, when Spencer pulls him out of his underwear.

“Spencer,” he says, voice raspy with feeling.

Spencer doesn’t reply and instead slips his mouth over Aaron’s dick, and for just a short moment, all thought leaves Aaron’s mind and all his focus moves to Spencer’s mouth on his dick and the soft, sloppy noises he makes as he carefully moves his head up and down.

And Aaron’s not really the swearing type, but, “Fuck.”

Spencer pulls back a little and Aaron’s dick slips out over his bottom lip, a view so obscene that Aaron will probably not forget it in this lifetime.

Without saying anything, Spencer softly takes one of Aaron’s fists, uncurls his fingers and carefully places his hand at the back of his head. 

He looks up at Aaron and gives him a lopsided smile. “You will be graded on your participation in this class, Hotch.”

Aaron laughs quietly and feels his shoulders relax. 

He experimentally and very deliberately tugs on Spencer’s hair. He gets a soft noise in return and takes it as permission to nudge Spencer’s head forward again.

Spencer’s hand curls around his dick and before Aaron has time to do, well, anything, Spencer’s lips are around him again. 

This time he moves faster, his head bobbing up and down as he takes in more of Aaron’s dick.

It’s sloppy and Spencer’s throat is working hard, but Aaron doesn’t mind at all, as he watches his dick spread Spencer’s lips apart.

He tightens his grip on Spencer’s hair, who hums around his dick and Aaron closes his eyes, because he’s not really sure this will last very long, if Spencer keeps going like this.

“Spence--,” Aaron licks his lips and tries to find his voice again. “Spencer, stop.”

Spencer immediately pulls back again and gives him a confused look. There’s spit coating his lips and he wipes it away with the back of his hand, almost without noticing.

“What’s wrong? Did I--was that too fast?”

Aaron’s shaking his head before Spencer’s even finished. “No, no! It’s just--if you keep doing that I won’t last.” He swallows hard. “And I want to, well. I want this to last a bit longer than five minutes.”

Spencer’s features relax. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

He gets up and steps towards Aaron again.

“Do you mind, if--”, Aaron kisses the rest of the question away.

He licks into Spencer’s mouth and tastes himself there. There’s a low moan and Aaron realizes it’s Spencer, who’s unselfconsciously rubbing against his leg.

Aaron has to reach between them and squeeze himself to keep from losing it right there.

“Spencer. Bedroom.” Aaron carefully pushes Spencer off.

He gets a glazed look from Spencer in response.

“As much as I want to continue this immediately, I wasn’t exactly picturing it happening in your hallway.”

A predatory smile appears on Spencer’s face. “You thought about this?”

Aaron’s hand fumbles as he tries to somehow tug his hard dick back into his pants, so he doesn’t trip on the way to Spencer’s bedroom.

“In your mind, where did you see this happening, Aaron?” Spencer’s leaning in again to leave open-mouthed kisses along his neck and Aaron feels goosebumps slide up his arms.

“Spencer. Bedroom. Now.” 

Spencer snaps back and swallows. “Yes, sir.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow and Spencer shrugs. “You used the voice,” he clears his throat and then says, in an eerily good imitation of Aaron, “Wheels up in 30.”

“Jesus,” Aaron rasps. “You’re killing me,” and Spencer leans in for another long kiss, before he pulls Aaron along behind him to the bedroom.

***

Spencer’s bedroom is just as much of an orderly mess as the rest of his apartment. He lets go of Aaron long enough to sweep some clothes from his bed.

The only illumination comes from a small lamp on a bedside table. Aaron carefully opens the rest of the buttons on his shirt and slips out of it, carefully hangs it over the back of a chair in the corner.

Suddenly he feels very naked here in Spencer’s bedroom, with his pants half undone, dick still throbbing and sticky from Spencer’s spit.

The small voice in his mind helpfully reminds him that he’s never seen Spencer’s bedroom before, because he’s Spencer’s boss and that would be inappropriate.

Aaron stands still by the open bedroom door and watches Spencer hop on one foot to get off a sock, then repeat the process with the other one.

Aaron thinks that they will have to discuss this eventually. This will make things so much more complicated and he’s not sure yet what sort of repercussions all of this will have. He’ll surely have to tell--

“Aaron?” Spencer’s suddenly standing in front of him, shirt hanging open. “Pause. Remember?”

Aaron blinks. “I know. It’s just. Are you sure you’re ready for all the consequences of this? It’s,” he swallows, “it’s going to be a lot.”

Spencer frowns at him and then takes his hand, pulls him closer until Aaron’s hand is covering the bulge in Spencer’s pants. “Is that enough of an answer?”

Aaron has to concentrate hard not to flex his fingers and just touch, but this is important and, “Spencer, I’m serious about this.”

“So am I. And we’ve agreed we’ll get back to all of this. Later.”

Spencer steps away. “Now, get on the bed, Aaron.” His voice is husky but sure and Aaron goes without thinking.

The bed gives under him as he sits. He slowly tugs off his socks or at least he tries to, before Spencer bats his hands away and makes quick work of the socks and then his pants and his underwear. 

Spencer pushes Aaron on his back and up towards the headboard, climbs in his lap, his own pants hanging half open, shirt slipping from one shoulder.

“Before we, you know--I need to ask,” and Spencer actually blushes and wiggles on top of Aaron’s dick. “Have you ever, uh, done this before?”

Aaron gives him an amused look. “Spencer, are you asking me if I’ve had sex before? Because the answer to that is most definitely yes. More than once actually.”

Spencer gives him a small smile, but he looks serious. “No, you know what I mean.”

“Are you asking me, if I’ve ever slept with men? Because, yes.”

“Oh,” Spencer says and absently scratches the hair at the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure. That you were, well, comfortable with this.”

Aaron’s face softens, he reaches up and touches his hand to the blush on Spencer’s cheek.

“I’d be a lot more comfortable, if you were a lot more naked to be honest. I’ve been thinking about this. For some time actually. And there was usually a lot less talking.”

This time Spencer really laughs, a high breathless laugh that vibrates right through his body.

He slides off of Aaron’s lap and carelessly lets his shirt fall to the floor. His hands are shaking a little as he undoes the buttons of his pants.

Aaron, propped up on one elbow, lazily palms his dick as Spencer takes off his underwear and stands before him naked and suddenly shy.

“Come here.”

Spencer crawls up his body, touches his forehead to Aaron’s shoulder and carefully settles on top of him. When their dicks slide together, a little too rough to be entirely comfortable, Aaron bites on his lip and muffles a groan.

“No, please,” Spencer's lips are wet where he’s talking against his shoulder. “I want to hear. Don’t hide.” 

Aaron moans softly, not used to letting go like this. “Well, fuck you,” he rasps into Spencer’s hair tickling his lips.

“That’s the general idea.” Spencer gently bites into Aaron’s shoulder and then stretches over him. “Let me just--,” the sheets rustle and Aaron moves up to kiss Spencer’s chest and licks at a nipple.

Spencer’s breath speeds up and the muscles in his arm tense. Finally, he seems to find what he's looking for and produces a small bottle of lube from between his sheets.

Aaron raises an eyebrow and Spencer blushes again. He leans back, fumbling open the small plastic bottle.

Aaron puts his hands over Spencer’s. “Let me.”

The first squirt of lube into his hands is cold, but it quickly warms on his skin and Aaron clicks the bottle shut, before dropping it by his side.

He meets Spencer’s gaze, who is sitting in his lap, already looking debauched. His hair is sticking to his temple and his chest is rising and falling fast.

Aaron takes his time to look down where their dicks are brushing together, tantalizingly slow rubs of skin on skin. Then he grabs their dicks in his hand and they both gasp.

Spencer closes his eyes and slides his hips forward, rocking into Aaron’s grip. 

Aaron sets a slow, but firm pace, making sure to coat their dicks in lube. The smooth friction of skin on skin makes it hard for him to hold the rhythm though.

His hand slips and he tugs on Spencer’s dick, feels and sees it get impossibly harder and yeah, this is nothing like the way Aaron imagined this, alone in his shower after a long day. 

This is better.

“Better than what?” Spencer’s eyes are open and dark, looking down at him.

Aaron must have lost his mind-mouth-filter sometime between the hallway and Spencer’s bed. “It’s better than I imagined.”

“Tell me how,” Spencer whispers as he leans down and licks into Aaron’s mouth, rocking their dicks together. Aaron’s hand slips from between them, slides to the small of Spencer’s back, leaving a wet trail of lube. 

Spencer pulls back slightly and looks expectantly at Aaron.

“I don’t--I don’t usually talk,” Aaron swallows around a groan when Spencer grinds their dicks together just so, “like that,” he finishes lamely.

“Make an exception for me,” Spencer says quietly.

He plugs Aaron’s hand away from his back, slides it over Aaron’s head next to Aaron’s other hand. Spencer pins Aaron’s wrists to the bed easily. The pressure of the sure hold Spencer has on him spreads through Aaron’s whole body like a hot wave.

He has to close his eyes against the unexpected sensation. Swallows hard. When he opens his eyes again Spencer is looking at him, completely still on top of him.

Aaron licks his lips.

“I--I always thought we would do this at work. For some reason.” Aaron’s voice is rough, but sure. 

Spencer starts moving on top of him again. Slow, hard slide of their dicks together. He’s stretched out over Aaron, hands firmly gripping his wrists. One of his thumbs digs into the pulse point at Aaron’s wrist and it’s strangely reassuring.

Spencer’s hair is falling into his face and his pupils are blown wide, looking down at Aaron’s face.

“It’s, there’s different scenarios. Sometimes we--we fuck in my office. Or on the,” Aaron groans, when Spencer licks his own lips and grinds their dicks together in a slow delicious drag, “or on the jet. Or in the bullpen, just, on your desk.”

Spencer hums and noses at the side of Aaron’s neck. “Tell me how,” he says against Aaron’s skin and well, that voice might just be Aaron’s undoing. He’s squirming, shamelessly rutting against Spencer.

“It’s just after a case. When we--that feeling, like, you’re, uh,” Aaron moans when Spencer takes a hand away from his wrists and pushes it between them, firmly wrapping his long fingers around their dicks. Aaron barely manages to keep his thoughts straight. 

“That feeling, when the weight of the case has lifted and--and you come to my office. And you, uh, fuck,” Aaron arches up and feels a drop of sweat slide down his hip, “you close the door and you just. You walk, ah, to my desk and just,” Aaron trails off and squeezes his eyes shut. Spencer does something with his hand, thumb brushing just under the head of Aaron’s dick.

And he can’t, he can’t think, feels it building in his balls, his whole body humming.

“You just, what?” Spencer’s voice breaks a little on the last word and Aaron can feel his hot breath on his neck. He thinks Spencer’s close, feels him tense on top of Aaron, their sweaty bodies sticking and rubbing and sliding together.

“I bend you over my desk and fuck you.”

Spencer makes a strangled sound and comes hotly between them, taking Aaron by surprise. He strains against where Spencer has his wrists pinned, but he can’t get free.

“Spence, please, let me--,” Spencer lets go of his hands and Aaron moves, wraps his hand around Spencer’s dick, jerking him through it harshly.

Spencer’s eyes are closed as he shudders all over on top of Aaron and Aaron can’t help but watch, his own dick straining hard against the underside of his arm, where he's jerking off Spencer. Spencer’s barely holding himself up, his face hidden by his hair.

Slowly, Spencer’s breathing calms and when he opens his eyes there’s a sheepish look on his face. “Uh. That wasn’t the plan.”

Aaron runs his thumb over the slick wetness at the tip of Spencer’s dick and makes him twitch under the touch. “There was a plan?”

“Sure,” Spencer says and slides down a little on Aaron's legs, giving himself more room. His dick trails wetly over Aaron’s thigh and Aaron’s dimly aware that he’s still painfully hard, dick straining up against his belly.

Spencer wraps his hand around Aaron’s dick, muscles rippling in his arm. “You ever think,” Spencer says and starts jerking Aaron off, grip just this side of too tight, slight twist on each upstroke that makes Aaron squirm, “you ever think, that maybe I’d be the one fucking you over that stupid desk of yours?”

Aaron blinks at the way Spencer’s all of a sudden all there again, but if he’s honest, yes, Aaron has thought about it. Quite a lot.

He only realizes he has voluntarily slid his hands up again, wrists tangled in the sheets above his head, when Spencer gives him a strange look and his grip on Aaron’s dick stutter-stops and then starts moving again.

“Fuck, Aaron,” he says quietly and Aaron realizes that Spencer’s getting hard again, rutting against his hip.

“Spence--,” is all he gets out and Spencer picks up the pace. Aaron can’t help but fuck into his hand, he’s so close and he just needs more, just a little more.

He feels Spencer cup his balls and then he slides two fingers behind to tease Aaron’s hole and Aaron goes still all over, hot sensation of electricity pooling deep in his belly. 

His own strangled moan is loud in Aaron’s ears, when he spills wetly over Spencer’s fingers, who strokes him through it, fingers moving deftly, until Aaron feels spent and loose all over and twitches away from his touch.

Spencer rolls off of him then and lies down on his back next to Aaron. 

They stay like that for a while, both breathing hard. Spencer’s fingers brush Aaron’s arm as he stares at the ceiling.

And it feels, strangely, like nothing has changed. Which is ridiculous considering Aaron’s lying naked in Spencer’s bed, their come slowly drying on his belly. It should be awkward and uncomfortable and instead Aaron’s idly wondering how long he’ll need before he can go again. 

_Jesus_.

“Are you unpausing?” Spencer’s voice is soft next to him.

Aaron smiles. “Ah, no, actually.”

He thinks he hears Spencer mumble something that sounds suspiciously like, “Liar.”

Aaron rolls on his side and waits until Spencer turns his head toward him. Spencer's hair is messy, lips swollen and slick. Aaron has to take a moment to just look.

“So?” Spencer says and looks at him expectantly.

Aaron meets his gaze. “I wasn’t unpausing. There’s plenty of time for that later. Actually,” he gently touches his hand to Spencer’s sweat-slick chest, “I was thinking about what you said. Your version of that office, ah, scenario.” Aaron smiles. “Maybe I want to hear a little more about that.”

Spencer scoots closer and there’s an answering smile on his lips. “I could show you?”

Aaron chuckles, “I’m an antique, Spencer, I need a little more time to--to recover.”

Spencer gives him a quizzical look, but Aaron shakes his head. He’ll explain about the antique table thing later.

“Just talk to me,” he says softly and Spencer never hesitates, as he leans towards Aaron’s ear and starts talking.

And yeah, maybe, Aaron’s not _that_ old after all, because he can feel his dick stir slightly.

He smiles and lets Spencer talk.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a PWP and quickly developed some sort of backstory and here we are 8k words later. I really just wanted a first time Reid/Hotch fic, where their both equally nervous and sure of what they're doing. Honestly, I've never been drawn in by a fandom as quickly as this one. Damn you, Criminal Minds!


End file.
